The Hunger Games - Fandom Edition
by thefinalpaige19
Summary: Many fandoms come together in a fight to the death - The Hunger Games! Ever wonder which of your favourite characters would win in a fight together? Read this story to find out! *on an indefinite hiatus*
1. The Reaping

**Hi! My name is Paige, and this is my first story on FanFiction. I hope you enjoy it!**

 **So the people who will be competing in this Hunger Games are:**

 **District 1 - Maxon Schreave & America Singer (The Selection)**

 **District 2 - Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase (Percy Jackson and the Olympians)**

 **District 3 - Kai & Linh Cinder - (The Lunar Chronicles)**

 **District 4 - Dorian Havilliard & Celaena Sardothien (Throne of Glass)**

 **District 5 - Dimitri Belikov & Rose Hathaway (Vampire Academy)**

 **District 6 - Four & Tris Prior (Divergent)**

 **District 7 - Jace Wayland & Clary Fray (The Mortal Instruments)**

 **District 8 - Loki Staad & Wendy Everly (Trylle)**

 **District 9 - Harry Potter & Hermione Granger (Harry Potter)**

 **District 10 - Edward Cullen & Bella Swan (Twilight)**

 **District 11 - Shane Collins & Claire Danvers (Morganville Vampires)**

 **District 12 - Peeta Mellark & Katniss Everdeen (The Hunger Games)**

 **For those who have not read the books from which these characters come from, don't fret! The events that happened in these books never took place in this world and everyone is human. No spoilers will be given.**

 **I don't own any of the characters or this world.**

* * *

 **JACE POV**

"Clancy Albinson!"

The small, bewildered boy, who only looked about twelve or thirteen years old, was almost green. His legs shook and his face was twisted with dread as he walked up to the stage, and to what was to be his certain doom.

Or what would have been, had I not been there.

I took a deep breath, let it out. I am ready. "I volunteer as tribute!" I stood as tall as I could, which was quite a lot taller than most of the people around me, so that everyone could see that I was the one who had spoken. Byron Glazier, the escort of District 7, perked up considerably at this. Not that he particularly cared about me or Clancy Albinson, but, as he always made clear, he enjoyed the Hunger Games, and having a volunteer generally spiced up his sadistic purpose of living. And no, I don't particularly care about Clancy either, though I couldn't help feeling a little bit glad that I wouldn't have to watch another brutal slaughtering of a young child, but I had been training all my life for this, thanks to my strict father, and I would hate to see my hard-earned skills go to waste.

I began to walk towards the stage, every step placed In the precise position to give me a look of complete confidence. The other volunteers watching their televisions later that night would see that _I_ volunteered, _I_ am ready for this, and, most importantly, that _I_ am not someone to be messed with.

"And you are?" Byron said, his voice filled with excitement as I reached the stage.

"My name is Jace Wayland." I am expressionless. I am a killing machine. I am here to win.

"Excellent! Excellent! Come up here on the stage, boy," even though I already was on the stage, Byron loved the idea of being in control of my trip to the games, right from the start. "Too bad, Clancy, maybe next year, eh?" The relief was obvious in the young boy's face, even as he muttered a "Yes sir," and almost sprinted down to the area for his age group.

"Ladies and gentlemen of District 7, I give you, our male champion, Jace Wayland!" It didn't matter that I wasn't their champion yet, our escort couldn't resist adding a little extra to his speeches to make them more dramatic. There were a few sparse claps from the crowd, but mostly the people were silent. This didn't discourage Byron.

"But who will be competing with this fine boy?" Byron slowly dipped his hand into the barrel, swirling the pieces of paper around in an attempt to increase anticipation. "District 7, our female champion is, Clarissa Fray!"

I stopped cold.

This was not supposed to happen, I had it all planned out! They were going to pick a random girl whom I had no difficulty killing! I recalled the conversation Clary and I had had last week.

* * *

 _"You're such an idiot! Why do you always do what your father says?" She had stopped working, and starting pacing up and down the clearing in the forest. She was so mad, even though she had known this would be coming. I was getting angry too._

 _"Come on, you know me. I could never lose! Do you want to live out the rest of our lives living in those crappy houses, cutting down trees for the rest of your existence?" There are better ways-"_

 _"And there are worse ways! In other districts, people are starving to death! I would choose what we have, together, over the possibility of losing you!"_

 _"You will not lose me! I have been training my whole life for this-" She cut me off._

 _"With your father. I know. Freaking everyone knows. What was your father's philosophy again? Oh, right,_ 'To love is to destroy.' _Well, I love you, Jace, and the time we have been together has been the happiest time of my life, so you can listen to your father or you can listen to me. Stay."_

* * *

You guessed it, I hadn't. We hadn't spoken since.

Clary didn't cry. She didn't look at me either. She kept her eyes stubbornly fixed on a point just to the right of me. I was about to turn my eyes to see if she was looking at anything, when I realized where I was, and how much I must be showing on my face. I carefully smoothed off my emotions as I had learned to do so many years ago before I spotted my father in the crowd. He wasn't happy.

 _"You can listen to your father or you can listen to me."_

I hadn't prepared for this. It took me until it was too late to realize I had chosen wrong.

If only I'd listened to her.

* * *

 **CLARY POV**

If only he'd listened to me.

Bloody Jace. Always going on about what his father would want. His father had brainwashed him. This was poetic justice. What I had done to deserve this, however, was a mystery. If Byron had known what the situation was between us he would have been dancing across the stage with glee. Even now, he was positively beaming.

Jace, of course, showed no emotion.

At all.

Like always.

These past couple of weeks, excluding the most recent one, of course, I had thought that maybe he could change. Maybe have a goal other than murdering 23 other kids for strangers' entertainment.

I guess I was wrong.

I walked up to the stage, my mind swirling with anxiety and panic. I was the one who got to live any Panem child's nightmare. I wasn't going to delude myself with thoughts of beating the careers, but nor was I going to give up. I would stay in the game for as long as I could. I hated the thought of killing the weak tributes from poorer districts like 11 and 12, but I didn't hate it more than dying.

I didn't think about killing Jace.

Mom was the first one to come see me. I knew she would be. My mother is most probably the most tender-hearted and kind person you will ever meet. No one deserves to have their child taken from them, but my mom the least. She was crying, and didn't look like she was planning on stopping anytime soon. I needed her to stop, or else I would start crying too, but her only daughter was going away to never come back, and I couldn't begrudge her her display of sadness.

"Honey, I- I-" another round of sobs, "I want you to know that- that-" Abruptly, she surprised me. She brought her hands away from her eyes and sat up straighter. "You need to know that you have a chance. You're not a weak girl. You're not stupid."

"Mom-" I was pleading. She had to know that I wasn't going to win. I couldn't give her false hope.

"No! Clary, no matter what, there is always a chance! Your life will not be taken away like this!" Mom declared. I sighed. This was so much harder than I thought it would be. "Clary. You are in love with that boy. I know that, I can understand that. But please, _please_ don't think your life is less important than his! I couldn't bear it if you didn't come home. Please.

 _That_ I could be sure of. "Mom, I will try. I will. And I will not give up my life for someone else. But you have to know how little chance there is of me making it. Please, don't think I'm going to win. I'm not."

It wasn't until I said it out loud that I realized just how true it was. These would be the final precious weeks of my life. I pulled Mom in for a hug, tears pooling in the corners of my eyes. I tried to blink them away but they wouldn't go. A stray tear trickled down my cheek and on to Mom's shoulder. "Goodbye, Mom." I whispered.

* * *

 **JACE POV**

"Remember what we talked about, son. You cannot let your little feelings get in the way of glory." This was the beginning of my father's speech. Not a tear, not an "I'll miss you", not even a simple "goodbye". My father spoke on, but my mind was too filled up with the thought of Clary in the arena, Clary dying, to pay the usual attention to detail my father had drilled into me.

"And what was that, on the stage? We rehearsed that, countless times!" Not understanding what my father was talking about, I stayed silent. "With that girl, Clarissa Fray! You don't know her, do you?" My father was furious, there was only one answer.

"Of course not, Father. I would never." I lied, my mind working to fabricate an excuse for my behavior, but I came up blank.

My father smiled. He could tell I wasn't being truthful.

"Right, of course you don't. You would have told me, wouldn't you?"

I only nodded. What else could I do?

"However, she does look like a good target." My father's voice was like razors. My mind refused to accept what my father was clearly about to say.

"Show yourself to be at the top from the start, you know?" This wasn't happening. How could it have come to this?

"I want you to kill her. First."

 **Thanks for reading, guys! I'll upload the next part as soon as I can. Feel free to review, all** **constructive** **criticism** **accepted!**


	2. The Reaping - 2

**Hi guys! Welcome back to my story! In this chapter, you'll get to know the characters being reaped a bit better. Enjoy! :)**

 **(Sorry about the Edward POV, I had to put him in this story but writing from his perspective is really hard!)**

 **I do not own the characters or the world this story is set in.**

* * *

 **CLAIRE POV**

"Claire Danvers." Called the escort, Lindsay Danvers. I smiled. I walked up to the stage and took my place as tribute, still smiling.

"Shane Collins" was the next name. I continued smiling. I smiled out at the people who would be watching us die in merely weeks. I smiled at my escort. I smiled at Shane. I smiled at the sun. I smiled and smiled and smiled because if I didn't smile then the world would come crashing down around me.

Honestly, what was the word smile anyway? It sounded like snail. I didn't like snails. I wondered if Shane liked snails. Or smiles.

Hey, do you know what 'smile' is in French? Me neither.

Smiling was distracting. It took a lot of effort. At least this one did. I was glad for the distraction. It distracted me from the fact that tributes from 11 and 12 were always the first to die in the arena.

And I smiled at Shane when he came up to talk to me later. Shane might have smiled. He might not have. I turned away before I could see.

* * *

 **SHANE POV**

This is total bull. I've just got a girlfriend, I'm just starting to be useful to District 11 with my job and suddenly I'm trying to kill my girlfriend and using my new strength to rip apart people's skin!

What am I supposed to say to Claire? I assume this means we're breaking up. Don't get me wrong, I've been through some tough breakups, but it's always been because they were boring or clingy, not because some God decided to take a crap on us and force us to kill each other. For some reason, I don't think the basic, "It's not you, it's me," template will work this time.

I catch a glimpse of her face through the crowd of Peacekeepers on the way to the Justice Building. Claire just looks shell-shocked. I guess she never saw this coming, either. No one ever expects it to be them who gets carted away to die. And 99% of people get what they expect. Looks like I'm in the 1%. Lucky Me.

No one comes to see me. I sit alone for an hour, aside from the Peacekeepers standing on guard to make sure I don't escape. That wouldn't be very entertaining for the Capitol citizens. Other people in all Districts are celebrating with the best they can get. And 23 other kids, including Claire, are watching their parents sob their eyes out as they plan what to do with the final weeks of their life. I plan, too, but not how to live, how to survive. I have about 10 years of labour in the fields so I will be stronger than most of the other kids. I just need to watch out for the careers. They're there every year. Kids, generally from Districts 1, 2 and 4, who actually volunteer for this piece of crap show of power from the capitol.

I am 17. I had 2 more years before I was safe. 2. Then I could've lived peacefully. Being in District 11, I would never have lived very long, but it would definitely have been past 17. I daydream of what would happen if I won. Fame and money. I would be safe from the games forever. A forever of living with the guilt of killing kids, not exactly what I would have preferred.

Still, it's better to live with guilt than to not live at all.

* * *

 **EDWARD POV**

"I love you, Bella."

"I love you Edward."

"I love you, Bella."

We were in the clearing in the forest after a long day's work of watching blood pour out of the livestock. We did this every day after work, though I never grew bored of watching Bella. The light in her eyes was all I needed to get through all the hardship of living in District 10.

"I love you, Edward." Bella smiled. She seemed to sparkle in the morning light. "But we need to get to the Reaping."

We whispered our love to each other all the way to the Reaping. We were both 17, so we were in the same section as Benedictus Admiraal called out the names. I was in the middle of telling Bella I loved her when Benedictus called out "Edward Cullen" in his dreary voice.

I couldn't leave Bella on her own like this. But I had no choice.

"I love you," I whispered as I began to walk forward.

"I love you, too," said Bella, with tears in her eyes.

I was openly crying but I couldn't bring myself to care. I was being separated from the love of my life, which hurt more than any thought of being killed could. I had been called crazy, people had told us "You won't last long enough to have a proper love story, you're 10s. Give up." An insane-looking girl had even said something about a Jacob. But I had brushed these people aside. No one could separate Bella and I, I'd thought. Apparently I had been wrong. Nothing could make this situation worse. Except…

"Bella Swan."

Except for that. And in that moment I knew I would give up everything for her. I would ensure that Bella would make it through this. Even if it meant I would not.

* * *

 **HERMIONE POV**

"There has only ever been two recordings of twelve-year-old tributes winning the games, but over 87% of all recorded Hunger games have twelve-year-olds in them." It was the first Reaping in which Harry, Ron and I were possible players. I had spent the last year reading up all I could to be prepared for them. Everything I learned only made the games seem more impossible. Harry and Ron both looked nervous and I was sure the same anxiety was showing on my face. I took a deep breath and led the boys to the Town Square where we joined all the other nervous kids whose names were in the Reaping bowl for the first time.

"Hermione, how many people between the ages 12-18 are in District 9?" Harry asked.

"5 364" I replied immediately.

"So we each have a 1/5 364 chance of being picked. That's nothing! We'll be fine." Harry said.

Classic Harry, trying to make people feel better.

"Well, actually, since there are two contestants being picked, we each have twice that, so 1/2682." I responded.

"Thanks Hermione. Real helpful." Ron muttered.

"That's still miniscule!" Harry insisted.

"Welcome to the Reaping of the 34th Annual Hunger Games." Suddenly, the escort of our District's voice boomed out across the Town Square. Everyone fell silent. The field was buzzing with nervous anticipation.

He didn't keep them waiting long, though I wish he had. I wish we could have stopped right there while a bit of our hope was still intact. Hope that we could go home and celebrate that fact that someone else was being murdered for entertainment this year. Because nothing could shatter our dreams quite as efficiently as the two names that were called out.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading, guys! Don't forget to review!**


	3. The Tribute Train

**Welcome back to my story! We're getting to know the characters a bit better, and the Games are getting closer! The characters are a** ** _little_** **OOC, but remember, they've been brought up in a very different world, and I tried to reflect that onto their personalities.**

 **I do not own any of the characters or the world this story is set in.**

* * *

 **AMERICA POV**

"Stand up straighter, Miss Singer." I am currently getting my dress fit for the first time the Capitol will see the tributes. I am to look like a queen, and Maxon my king. I don't get a say in what I wear, but I don't mind. I know it will have jewels on it, as is the tradition of my District. Far better than those coal-miners in District 12. It's no wonder they never win the Games. Their costumes are so ugly, no one would ever waste money on them. They must get all the dim-witted designers. I don't really care.

"Thank you, Miss Singer. You may leave." I am about to walk out of the room and leave them to making my dress when I see Maxon. He walks towards me and offers me his arm.

"Care to join me in walking to our rooms? We should practice our royal walk for the ceremony." I giggle and take his arm. He will not be wearing his kingly clothing until this evening, but the Capitol has provided us with nice clothes to wear until then. Being from District 1, our clothes are never shabby, but these are nice even for us. They must be a huge change for all the poor Districts.

Maxon is wearing a fine white shirt with simple gold trim and a red coat, which I cling to. He and I had briefly met back in District 1, but over the train ride we had grown to know each other well. Then last night, the final night on the train, he had taken be onto the roof and kissed me. He was an _excellent_ kisser, and it saddens me to think of him dying in the games. I hope we both make it far.

Neither of us are careers, we had both been chosen randomly. It is a sick twist of fate that someone as beautiful as Maxon could be chosen for such a horrible game. Careers are becoming more and more popular, but unfortunately, there are still not enough children willing to die for the regular kids to be safe.

* * *

We were supposed to watched the other tributes on television back on the night of the Reaping, but I had been too distraught about the thought of dying to even think about that, so I am the only one of us who is seeing the other tributes for the first time. We are about to be shown to the public and are all looking our best. I look just like a queen. The only thing missing is the crown, however, a crown could be interpreted as a show of power from the Districts, and so they are illegal. My dress is a deep blue, and I look much older than I am. Maxon looks incredibly handsome, and it is all I can do not to kiss him right now. I probably would have, had the stylists who had just spent hours applying and reapplying my makeup not been right there.

The other tributes are not quite like I expected. I have seen very few members of other Districts, aside from the dirty, starving children on the television every year during the Hunger Games, but I have always been assured that they are ugly savages. They aren't.

A few stand out to me. Districts 4 & 8 look they tried the whole "royalty" look as well, but of course they don't pull it off as well as I do. Both tributes from District 10 are wearing _way_ too much make-up, they almost look like vampires. They wouldn't know what a vampire is though, they would only have the poor education from 10. They must have a young, emo stylist. The tributes from District 5, the girl from District 4, and the boy from 7 look like they have experience fighting, and I made a mental note to make friends with them. The girls from 4, 7 and 8 are also quite pretty, and I decide to befriend them as well. A girl can never have too many friends in the Hunger Games.

"Maxon Schreave and- and America Singer. Please come forward." The Capitol lady stutters before saying my name, as many people do. America is what Panem was called before the revolution. It is a dangerous name to have, as it reminds people of the war, but I like it. My father, unlike many people who feel lucky to live in District 1, including me, hates the Capitol. Or, I should say, hated. He was executed for being suspected of harboring rebellious thoughts. But I know my father wouldn't have done anything. Calling me America was the furthest he ever got to rebellion.

* * *

 **KAI POV**

Clearly, our stylist thought Cinder was prettier than I was, according to the amount of effort put into our costumes.

To be fair, Cinder was very pretty. Incredibly pretty. Marvelously pretty. Absolutely gorgeous.

Of course, she didn't know that I thought that, and, quite clearly, she did not like her costume at all. Her face was fixed in a frown. She was dressed as a cyborg, with a cybernetic left hand covered in make-up. She was also wearing the classic Capitol red heels, which, by the way she was shifting around, were not comfortable.

"Why are we wearing this?" she complained, fidgeting with her hair with only her right hand, so that she didn't mess up the make-up on her left.

"To represent your District, Miss, the hand is for-" The our stylist began explaining but stopped as soon as Cinder fixed her glare on her. I couldn't stop a snort of amusement and quickly turned it into a cough so that I could laugh without being discovered. Cinder let out a sigh and turned around.

* * *

Being in District 3, we were third to be shown to the Capitol public. I was fairly content with my costume, so I didn't mind. Cinder, though, kept getting more and more nervous and fidgety as the time passed.

"Hey," I whispered. We weren't supposed to talk. "Are you OK?"

"I'm fine." She snapped. Over the past few days, I had gotten to know her and noticed that she got angry whenever she was _not_ OK, but I decided to leave it alone. I would have taken her hand if that wouldn't have made the nearby stylists faint from anxiety. Or if Cinder would have let me. I gave her a smile, but she had already turned away.

* * *

 **ROSE POV**

My costume is excellent. I can tell Dimitri thinks so too, though he would never admit it. He keeps looking at me out of the corner of his eye.

I smile flirtatiously at him, and he looks away. Damn him. He's been so cold the entire trip. I get it, we're going to have to kill each other, but that doesn't mean we can't be best buddies while we're slitting each other's throats.

That is, _I'm_ going to slit _his_ throat.

No, I hadn't volunteered. No, I wouldn't have volunteered. But that doesn't mean I'm not better than any of the careers. My mother taught me to fight when I was a young child, and I was brought up prepared for the Games. It would have been a lot easier had I not been picked out of the Reaping bowl, but it doesn't matter, I'm going to win this.

Dimitri walks in a manner that implies control, an important aspect of fighting. I've had enough experience to know when someone else has been trained, though not how much. Not that it matters, I'll still be better than him, but it's always good to know how strong your opponent is.

I thrust my chest forward, both for the crowd and for Dimitri. Sparks fly off my costume, which is entirely black, apart from a light show representing the electricity produced in my District.

It's also good to be friends - or more - with your opponent.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! I'll be back soon with more! Don't forget to review! :)**


	4. The Training Room

**Hey guys! I'm back with a new chapter (obviously). This time the tributes are honing their skills in preparation for the upcoming Hunger Games!**

 **I do not own the characters or this world.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **-Paige**

* * *

 **CELAENA POV**

I flung the knife with deadly accuracy at the hologram. It hit, of course. I never missed. Just a slight bit to the side, though. I frowned.

"Whoa, Celaena, that was a pretty OK shot! Bet you I could do better, though." I turned, and sure enough, there was Dorian, complete with a cocky grin and a challenging stance. He knew me too well, even after only a week together. I could never resist a bet.

"Do you now? What do you bet, Havilliard?" I asked him mockingly.

"Hmm… if you win, I will throw myself at your feet and call you my queen." Clearly, he thought himself a comedian. I rolled my eyes and stepped back.

"Give it your best try, Sea Prince." It was a nickname I had given him, after our stylist had dressed us up as rulers of the sea to represent our District.

He made exaggerated movements as he took his position, lining up his shot. I snorted.

"Tick tock, Havilliard. If this was the Games, you'd be dead by now." I called out.

"Patience, Celaena. Fools rush in." He responded. Finally he took his shot. Seeming to be perfect, he grinned, but stopped in shock when the knife hit the target far from the centre. I laughed.

"Knees, Havilliard. I'm your queen, remember?" He gaped in shock, and I used his surprise to tackle him to the ground. Lying on top of him, I kissed him, and he kissed me back.

"Damn, Celaena," he murmured. "You are a queen." Then, with a smirk, he flipped me over, until he was on top of me. "And, I demand a rematch. That was, clearly, not fair."

"Sure thing, Sea Prince. I'll win every time, though." I said, and kissed him again.

Dorian and I had both volunteered for the Games, though I wasn't a career. I had no intention of working with anyone else, no matter if I planned to betray them or not. I had had a few matches with him back in District 4, but I hadn't known how good a fighter he was until he joined me in training for the Hunger Games.

Whatever we had wasn't serious, we both knew that. Wyrd, we were going to be trying to kill each other in a couple of weeks. Whether it would have turned into anything or not, had circumstances been different, I was unsure of. Either way, I wished I had spent more time getting to know him before I volunteered.

* * *

 **ANNABETH POV**

I focused part of my brain on memorizing the shape, texture and color of poisonous berries, and another part on watching Percy, the blockhead who was chosen to fight in the Hunger Games with me. I was born highly intelligent, so this wasn't difficult for me, though Percy seemed to be having trouble just focusing on the one thing. I had convinced him to work on memorizing the berries as well, though his real skill was in fighting. These could be the things that could get him killed. _Not_ that I cared, by the way, I just thought that he deserved to live longer than most of the thugs volunteering this year.

I had already learned the names and skills of every tributes this year, as well as every strategy ever used in the Hunger Games. _Know thy enemy_ , as had been said by Sun Tsu over a thousand years before the Uprising. I had volunteered, so I had had plenty of time to learn what I needed to win. My main targets were Jace Wayland from District 7, Rosemarie Hathaway and Dimitri Belikov from 5, and Dorian Havilliard and Celaena Sardothien from District 4. Those who would die first were Harry Potter and Hermione Granger from District 9, and Maxon Schreave and America Singer from District 1.

It was clear that Percy the Doofus planned to get through on looks alone. _Not_ that I was paying any attention to his looks. I just saw that he had a face most girls would die for. And those strong, handsome-

Back to work. Nightlock. Nightlock. What color is nightlock? All I could think about was those sea-green eyes…

Ugh! I just couldn't concentrate today. I decided to take a walk.

I couldn't get the peaceful walks from back home here, due to all the stylists and Peacekeepers rushing around, but it was enough to get Percy out of my mind. At least, it would have been, had he not followed me.

Oh, Gods.

"Hey! Annabeth! Wait up." Percy jogged after me, an adorable annoying smile on his face. I considered speeding up to give him a hint, but from what I had inferred so far, Percy was pretty stubborn, and would probably just run faster. I forced my face into a smile. Friends were a bad idea here, but enemies were even worse.

"Annabeth. I- uh- wanted to ask you something." Percy stumbled over his words a bit, which was confusing, since he had been so confident when I has seen him conversing with the other tributes. He must have been out breath.

"Sure, Percy. What's the matter?" I asked him casually, studying his eyes.

"I was just thinking, maybe, for the Games, like, we could work together? I feel like we could make a good team. You know, I'd like to have some friends around here."

 _NO_ , my mind was screaming. _This is the Hunger Games! You must NOT have friends!_

But those green eyes seemed to have torn apart my brain, so there was only my heart left to answer, "Yes."

* * *

 **LOKI POV**

Again and again and again, I punched the bag. This would bruise any other person's hands, but I had been born with exceptional strength, and so I'd had a lot of practice back in District 8. I caught Wendy looking at me, and I gave her a wink. She flushed and went back to her knife lesson, and I chuckled to myself.

There was another boy who frequented the punching bags, Peeta Mellark from District 12, though I didn't know him very well. I figured it was time to work on something else, so I went over to join Wendy at the knives.

I chose a larger knife with a black grip, as Jane (our instructor) told me to. I was taught various attacks, though in the end, Jane recommended I try a different weapon that was more focused on strength so that I could use my talents to their full extent.

Wendy was excellent at it. In District 8, we produce clothing and are hardly a violent District, so it is unlikely she has used a knife before, but she was incorporating elbows and backfist punches flawlessly into her attacks. When the dummy she had been fighting was slashed to pieces and she stopped, panting, I clapped.

Wendy went red again, and punched me lightly in the shoulder. I laughed.

"Congratulations, Wendy. Why don't you have a try on the punching bags?" I said.

"Now, that would not be exactly a wise decision for someone of Wendy's-" Jane started.

"Shut up, Jane," said Wendy, and marched over to the punching bags. She pulled back her fist and thrusted it forward. The bag didn't move an inch. She frowned and pulled back her hand again.

"Whoa there, Wendy. You're not going to do any damage like that. Here, I'll show you." I said. I moved behind her, and grabbed her hands.

"See, you need to move your whole body behind the punch. Put as much force into it as you can, but don't lose control of it… No, no, see, the face is up here." I continued like this, guiding her through each step. Eventually, she had a punch that could do a lot of damage, if done at the right time.

A calm, robotic voice came over the speakers. _Could the tributes for the 34th Hunger Games please come to the left dining room._

"Thanks, Loki." Wendy smiled up at me. "Maybe tomorrow I can show you how to use the knives?"

"Sure thing, Princess."

 **YES! I've had a POV from every District! Write a review with who you think is going to win and I'll see you soon!**

 **P.S. Fine. I've done a POV from** ** _almost_** **every district. But I'm not going to do a lot from Katniss and Peeta's POV (though they will be in there) (probably) because we've already had 3 whole books with them, and I PROMISE the first POV next chapter will be from Tris or Four's perpective.**


	5. Training Scores

**Hi, guys! I'm back again with a new chapter, and this time we get to see some strategies and new sides to characters! Enjoy!**

 **I do not own any of the characters or the world this story is set in.**

* * *

 **TRIS POV**

I complete my dance-like arc, ending with my knife lodged into the dummy's chest. I have been practicing this manoeuvre the entire time we had been at the training grounds. Call me stupid if you like, however my life likely depends on the judges' opinions. I know I will need more than one skill once the Games begin, but my spot will now be secured as a likely candidate for winning the Games, meaning more gifts from the Capitol.

The judges clap politely, they don't really care if I'm good or not, but they will judge fairly and I know I'll be close to the top. I turn and take my leave.

I am pleased to see that Four, the other tribute from my District, is waiting outside for me, though of course I don't show it. He and I compete for the best poker face as we walk back to our escort, Mara Calabrese.

"Beatrice! Four! How did it go?" She says in her fakest sweet voice. My instructor is there too, but he has taken too much Morphling, as is common with victors of our District, and doesn't appear to realize we are here.

I wait for Four to answer, then realize he is waiting for me. Neither of us are particularly verbose, nor do we like Mara a whole lot. In the end, I sigh and mumble, "It was OK, I guess."

Four's head moves slightly in agreement. Or maybe it was just my imagination. The movement was so imperceptible I couldn't tell. Though, really, from him, this is an "OMG it was totally amazeballs!" which is how Mara takes it.

"That's simply wonderful, dears! Come and sit down, and tell me _absolutely everything_ that happened!" She almost squeals and waddles to the luxury sofa provided for us while we wait for our results.

I give her a brief overview, widely exaggerating the judges' responses, which are the bit she cares about. Though for all I know, I am not exaggerating. I didn't stay to check on what they thought. It doesn't matter what I know about my score. It only matter what the people from the Capitol think.

Four gives a story of throwing knives at targets. He doesn't sound particularly enthusiastic, but then, he never does.

We sit the rest of the time in silence. I glance occasionally at Four, but he is always staring at the ceiling.

* * *

I cannot believe this. I put all that effort into that one skill, I practically perfected it! And all I got was a nine. Four got a nine as well, but there was none of the outrage on his face that I was sure was showing on mine. That was a difficult, dangerous move and I did it! You could almost say I was _dauntless_. And I'm stuck with a nine.

There are tributes from Districts who have higher scores than nine, so the rich Capitol residents will pass right over me. That Sardothien girl from District 4, as well as both the tributes from 5. Mara looks, like always, overjoyed at this terrible news. I think she may have been getting at our instructor's Morphling.

" _Congratulations_ , darlings! _So_ well done! I am _so_ proud of you." I think she is crying. I can't deal with this. I get up and walk out of the room, not exactly sure where I'm going, but I know I have to get away from that woman, and this world.

* * *

 **HARRY POV**

I dodged around the dummy, occasionally throwing punches at it, just as Hermione and I had practiced. I demonstrated my blocks, just as Hermione and I had practiced. And when the final move came, I stumbled over my feet and threw a lousy kick, just as Hermione and I had practiced.

To be fair, I wasn't entirely sure I would have done too good a job, even if I hadn't been going to throw the demonstration.

Hermione had researched all the previous victors, and according to her, "94% of all 12-year-old victors used the _Underestimation_ technique to win." I didn't really understand the logistics of it, but whatever keeps me alive, I'm happy to do.

I walk out of the room with my head down. Normally I'd be grinning at pulling off a performance so well, but when there's the Hunger Games involved… Let's just say they put a damper on the whole "Congratulations to me!" thing.

Hermione hi-fives me as soon as I'm out of the room. Admittedly, it's not as enthusiastic as she normally is, you know, say when we're not being killed by teenagers, but at least she's trying.

"Did you do the thing?" This is proof of how nervous she is. Hermione detests the word "thing" but she didn't even stop to correct herself.

"I did do the 'thing'." I say. Hermione blushes. "We'll just have to wait until tonight to see whether it was good enough."

* * *

 _And now, the moment you've all been waiting for! Tell your friends and families to come to the screen, because, for the first time, we will be seeing the scores our tributes received! Now, I know you're all dying to know…_

Caesar Flickerman droned on, and I tuned out. Well, I say droned, but that man can make anything sound interesting, my insides were just writhing around far too much to listen to Caesar excite the crowd. Hermione was taking notes.

The tributes from District 1 didn't do particularly well, though they could have been pretending. All the other Districts close to the Capitol had produced excellent scores though, and I gulped. I reminded myself that this was _Hermione's_ strategy, and when was Hermione ever wrong?

I got a 6 and Hermione got a 7. Our escort snorted in disappointment, but Hermione and I shared a secret smile. These were the scores we had been hoping for and, come the day of the Cornucopia, we would be able to slip away unnoticed, and plot our strategy.

* * *

 **PERCY POV**

I watched Annabeth come out with a scowl that meant she was concentrating. I smiled at her, and she rolled her eyes.

"Only you could be _happy_ at a time like this." She muttered as she brushed past me, but I felt a note of grudging amusement in her tone, and held onto that.

Only she was wrong. I was _not_ happy. I felt like running onto one of the spears I knew would be set out as an option for me. That would clear up all the recent problems in my life that had cropped up recently.

About ten minutes later, the runner they would have sent to fetch me came out, and was relieved to find me there.

"Mr. Jackson, sir, your presence has been requested in the training room." Like all Capitol residents, he carried a bit of the haughtiness that followed them everywhere, but he didn't seem as bad as the rest of them, so I smiled and thanked him, before strolling into the room with all the fake confidence I could muster.

The judging panel stilled to acknowledge my presence, but otherwise did not appear to care that I had just arrived.

I walked over to the group of old-fashioned swords that had recently come into ironic popularity. I knew it would please the Capitol people. I picked up one that had become my favourite over the past week. It was retractable, and had ancient Greek letters carved into it.

I chose to fight in the hologram area. Enemies would come at me from all directions, testing both my fighting skills and my athletic skills, as I had to move around to dodge the attacks and to launch my own.

I ended up satisfied with my work when my time was up. I retracted my sword and replaced it, then, unsure if I was supposed to wait or not, began walking towards the door. The judging panel, deep in discussion, didn't stop me, though it was impossible to tell if they were talking about my performance or the fine meat (most likely from one of the Capitol's hybrids) that was sitting on their table.

I hadn't expected to see Annabeth waiting for me, but there she was, complete with crossed arms and an 'ugh, finally!" look in her grey eyes. Perhaps she was finally warming to my charms.

We walked back to the waiting room in silence, but the fact that she was there when she didn't have to be was enough.

* * *

I received a 9. Annabeth got an 11.

I wasn't surprised. Annabeth had a whole range of skills, both mental and physical, which she could easily figure out how to fit into a 30 minute performance. Honestly, I'm shocked she didn't get higher.

"Congratulations." I told her. She looked smug, as if she had already known what her result was. I saw that, secretly, she was as pleased, if not surprised, about her score.

"Congratulations to you, too." She said with a smile that was a little less strained than usual.

* * *

 **And NOW I have done a POV from every District! (except 12) Hope you enjoyed! Remember to review!**


	6. Preparation

**Welcome back! The tributes are preparing for the games... but who will come out on top?**

 **(Please excuse my attempts at being dramatic. I am amusing myself far too much to stop.)**

 **Enjoy!**

 **I do not own any of the characters or the world this story is set in.**

* * *

 **DIMITRI POV**

"Talk! Express yourself! Do whatever it takes! Go! Go! Go!" My instructor, Maisey Metzger, leaned over so far in her seat, I thought she was going to fall off it. "Let's start again." She cleared her throat.

"Hey, Dimitz, how's it going? What's up in your life?" She again performed her poor mimic of Caesar Flickerman. She raised her eyebrows at me, inviting me to respond. I sighed.

"My name is Dimitri Belikov. I am from District 5. I have traveled here with my co-competitor, Rose Hathaw-"

"Do. Not. Mention. That. Girl." Maisey interrupted me. Rose had had her interview training session before me and it was clear she had made an impression. I smiled to myself.

"Of course. My name is Dimitri Belikov. I am from District 5. I volunteered for this opportunity because-"

"Hey… You _are_ a volunteer, aren't you? That's very nice. Congratulations." She interrupted me again. I raised my eyebrows at her.

"May I continue?"

It had been going on like this for a while. She had suggested I go for the no-friends, I-came-here-to-win, killing-machine strategy at the start, as if I hadn't been doing that since I came, and then for the next four hours barely let me finish a sentence.

We continued, but my mind was elsewhere. I wondered what Rose had done to make Maisey hate her so much. She had probably walked out after five minutes, the time it had taken me to realize that these lessons would be no help. Or maybe Maisey had just decided to dislike her. She did that sometimes. It had been clear that everyone at the training center saw Maisey as a joke, and District 5 as a joke by association.

Of course, once District 5 had an _actual_ victor, as in, not one that had won by luck (Maisey), our District would be seen as important again. That victor was going to be me.

Had I not been there, Rose would have won. I was fairly sure of that. She definitely had the skills and the training.

But I knew how to push myself. How to strive for and do nothing against my name or my District. Rose has no interests other than herself. Therefore, I knew I needed to win.

Rose had done nothing but try to get my attention this whole time. It was working, but I _knew_ I wasn't attracted to her. Rose had gotten the attention of everyone at the training center, simply because of the things she said and the way she acted.

And of course, I found her interesting. How could you not? The way she-

"Dimitri… Dimitri!"

I came back to the present with a start. Maisey had a scowl on her face. She had gone into one of her long speeches, so I had assumed it was safe to stop paying attention.

"Look, Dimitri, I understand that the Games are difficult, but learning how to speak properly is one of the most important-" I couldn't do this. I stood up.

"I apologize, Maisey, however I am needed elsewhere. Goodbye." I said, and walked out of the room without waiting for her response.

I would regret this later. To impress the instructor was one of the first things I learned when preparing for the Games, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

I wasn't thinking about where I was going, and that was how I ended up crashing into Rose.

"What the hell is- Oh. Hey, Dimitri." Her expression changed from furious to flirtatious in the seconds it took her to realize who she had bumped into.

I couldn't do this either. My mind raced for an excuse, but it was not as quick as Rose's mouth.

"You just back from your lesson with Crazy-Maisey?" She said. "I couldn't get through it, she's nuts." My guess was correct then.

"Actually, she's not crazy, and you should show her more respect. She's one of the victors from your-"

"District. Yes, I know. District 5, mother of the power used to fuel the Games of our great nation." She recited from last year's victory tour speech. "Energy well used. What reason wouldn't I have to adore my district?" She said sarcastically.

I had been raised to believe my District was the core of our nation. The greatest District. Many had ridiculed it, and I had ignored them. But Rose's words struck me where no one else's had. Our District funded the Games.

"I… What?" I answered stupidly. Then pulled myself together. I wasn't falling apart over what some girl who would die in a week said. "Our District ensures that the whole of Panem can function peacefully. If the power went out, not one District could survive. You should be proud to come from such a District." I gave her the answer I had memorized so many years ago.

She looked disappointed in me. "Whatever," she said, and brushed past me on the way to her room.

She never flirted with me again. While this had been my goal, I couldn't honestly say I was happier, and wondered if I had made the right decision.

* * *

 **CINDER POV**

"Skirt straight!"

Freaking dress.

"Walk steady!"

Freaking shoes.

"Hands down"

Freaking make-up.

"Chin up!"

Freaking jewelry.

If I win this, I am going to find every dress, pair of shoes, palette of make-up and piece of jewelry that exists in this world and burn them.

On a huge bonfire.

Along with my instructor and escort.

I just happen to belong to the only District in which the escort and instructor not only get along, but are actually _friends_.

And so, Adela and Gigi (I think Adela's my escort, but honestly, they just look the same) both get to comment on my walk.

Of course, it would help if I had a slightly lighter dress, but, going with the theme of my District this year (steam-punk), my dress for the interview has **2** , not 0 (I wish), not 1, but **2** , over-sized fake cogs that probably weigh more than the real thing.

I tripped, again. Gigi (or maybe it was Adela?) sighed.

" _Honey_ ," the girl began dramatically in her Capitol accent. "These shoes were not made for you to-"

"Miss Toni, Miss Haley," a familiar voice came from the door, whose opening I had not heard in my agitation. It was Kai, polite as ever.

"Oh, Kai, dear, you don't need to call us that." Purred Adela (or maybe it was Gigi).

"What can we help you with, sugar?" Said the other one.

"You are requested by Mr Santillian to meet him in his office." Kai replied with a smile.

"Mr Santillian!" They squealed in unison before rushing to the door and pushing past Kai. I kicked off my shoes and sighed. It felt _so good_ to be free of them. I was jerked suddenly when Kai grabbed my arm and started dragging me out of the room.

"Hey! Where are you taking me?" I yelled, furious.

"Shh! Keep your voice down. Gigi and Adela will be back soon!" He responded.

"Why would they be back? They're with Mr. Santillian, and-"

"No, I made that up." He interrupted me. "You looked like you needed saving, and here I am." He grinned. "They're going to be annoyed though, so we should get out of here." Thank God for the Kais of the world. I ran after him as fast as I could with my dress, which wasn't very fast at all, but we still made it to our section of the Training Center without being torn apart by the manicured fingers of our demon instructors.

Then we had to deal with the problem of being alone together in our section of the Training center.

I wasn't going to deny, I thought Kai was amazing. But we were both likely to be going to die in a couple of weeks, and we _were_ both going to be trying to kill each other in _one_ week, we couldn't afford to get to know each other.

"Oh, uh, thank you, Kai." I said, unsure of what he was expecting. "But won't you get into trouble for lying to them?"

"Not a chance," He replies. "Gigi and Adela love any chance to go see Roy Santillian, and besides," he put on an exaggerated look of confusion.

" _Mr Santillian? Did I say that? I'm so sorry, I meant to say Mr Santiago_." He performed what he would do if he was called out on his lie, and it was so hilarious I burst out laughing, making him smile.

Making him smile was not my intention, but making me laugh was his intention. Did Kai not understand how the games worked? It didn't matter. I left, because it was far too dangerous for me to stay with this wonderful, friendly _, nice_ boy.

* * *

 **WENDY POV**

The dress is beautiful. There isn't another word for it. It isn't gorgeous, and it isn't lovely, and it isn't stunning. Those words would transform the dress into something else, just an object with no purpose other than to be admired, and I like it just the way it is. It's mine.

Admittedly, getting my dress fitted isn't the most comfortable process, but it is peaceful, in a way, with everyone around me rushing about and me just standing there. It's like being in the eye of a hurricane.

My dress would have to be amazing, of course. District 8 produces the textiles for Panem, so we always know what's "in" in the Capitol fashion, and the stylists do their best to improve on their last one each year.

My dress is the purest white you could imagine, bursting outwards at my hips and down to my feet in dazzling ruffles. The ruffles hide a deep purple, so if I move, violet ripples fly across the skirt and demand the attention of everyone in the room.

I cannot wait for tonight, when I get to present myself and my dress to the people of the Capitol. I won't be living much longer, so I can hardly deny myself the simple enjoyments of life, such as showing off. It's the least they can give me.

* * *

Later that night, Jane teaches me how to respond to Caesar Flickerman's questions.

"How are you feeling tonight?"

"What are your expectations for the games?"

"Who will you be missing at home?"

I catch my breath at the last one, thinking of all my friends, but I know there is only one answer. Jane told me to be truthful, no one in the Capitol actually cares about my family, so it won't matter if I lie or not but telling the truth makes you sound more sincere and likable.

"My mother." I will tell them this. This is the truth. What I will not tell them is that my mother is dying. My mother is weak from making clothes for the Capitol and she is going to die prematurely and it is _all the Capitol's fault_. Because if I tell them this I will not be able to stop until they kill me too.

Jane seems to see all this in my face, because she says, "I think that's all. Don't sweat it. You'll go great." And even though this encouragement is vague and overused, in Jane's voice, it sounds genuine.

 **The past chapters we have been getting to know the characters. But the Games are drawing closer, so keep your eyes open because shit's about to start happening...**

 **Don't forget to review! :)**


	7. Interviews

**...And exams are OVER! (At least for me) Celebration chapter to celebrate celebrations of celebrations! (Audience cheering)**

 **Welcome back to the story, hope you enjoy!**

 **I do not own any of the characters or the world this story is set in.**

* * *

 **MAXON POV**

"Maxon Schreave! Welcome!" Caesar Flickerman said.

"Good Morning, Caesar." I responded politely, a smile on my face. Though I was addressing Caesar, my face was turned to the audience, implying that I was happy to see them as well. I wasn't, but they didn't need to know that.

"So, you're our first guest tonight, Maxon. Tell us how you feel about that." Caesar leaned forward eagerly.

I responded, easy question. "I am delighted by the opportunity. I intend to enjoy my night."

"And what can you tell us about all the tributes we're about to see?" Caesar inquired, pleased by the effect my statement has had on the crowd.

"I think that they'll make for an interesting game this year." This was not what Caesar wanted. He wanted to know who I had a grudge against. He wanted drama. But the audience loved the prospect of an "interesting game" and was thrilled. Caesar's frown disappeared before it got there.

"Anyone in particular?" He probed.

"All the tributes are different." I smiled. "I can see them all having a part in the games." Again, not particularly true. Those tributes from District 10, Bella and Edward, didn't look like they could make particularly intelligent decisions.

"Is that so?" Caesar said. "Well then, looks like we're in for a hell of a night, hey?" He turned toward the crowd. It went wild.

"Now, Son," he turned to me. I recognized the sign of an idea I wouldn't like in his eyes. "I've been hearing a few rumors about this other girl from your District, America." I caught my breath.

"And what would those be, Caesar?" I challenged him, at least I tried to. I did all the necessary steps required to make it look like I was daring him, but I think he saw something in my eyes, a spark of desperation that didn't want him to say what he was about to. The audience was quiet, and this much bated breath could not be good for the environment.

"Well, you'd have to tell me if they're true, but some say you've been sneaking around with her. Not to be rude, but could you shed some light on what's been going on?"

I could say no. I could tell him that it was our business, and that he should mind his own. But that wouldn't convince him otherwise, and I needed to be a likable person. That was my goal. The audience wanted, and the audience would get. I took a deep breath.

"Yes, it's true." I could almost hear the sound of America's betrayal.

* * *

 **DORIAN POV**

I winked at the audience. It rose as expected and cheered as expected. Of course. I was halfway through my interview, and I knew I had already won the crowd. This was easy.

"We were delighted to see your costume back on the tribute train, but no one knows your opinion on it. Tell us, Dorian, what did you think of it?"

This was a question I'd already practiced, so I answered without hesitation. "I wish I could wear it all the time. It was really fitting, you know?" I had been dressed as a prince, as the audience could certainly remember, so this hidden but obvious boasting was a success.

"Well someone's confident!" Caesar laughed. "Are you as self-assured about the Games coming up?"

"Not a problem, Caesar. I'll be coming back in one piece, don't you worry." I gave the crowd another wink, this one with maybe even more success. Caesar laughed again.

"I see. Now, you volunteered for the Games, right? Anything you'd like to tell us about that? A reason, maybe?"

The answer to that question was an endless spiral of despair that I tend not to go into. How could I tell the privileged Capitol residents about working every day, trying to keep a hard father happy? How could I explain to _anyone_ about getting yourself killed to escape? I couldn't live a day longer back there, so I volunteered, and either I'm dead or rich now. No turning back.

I went with the easy answer. "The Games are a traditional part of our nation, Caesar. I pride myself on doing everything once. How could I miss this?" To impress my District. To improve our nation. Things the Capitol wants to hear.

"I'm glad to hear that, Dorian. Now, what are your plans for the games? Any hidden secrets or talents? Something we should know?" Caesar asked.

"As for secrets, well, I'm an open book." Force no innocent children to kill others, get no lies. "For tactics, I don't intend to work alone." This was the truth. Admittedly, I wasn't totally inclined to kill a friend of mine, but I was going on the assumption that neither would they.

"Anyone in mind?"

No, I hadn't thought about that. I was kind of going on instinct. But that's not a great tactic, and if I want the Capitol to send me gifts, I'm going to need to look better prepared. Damn. If only I'd paid more attention to the other Districts! It didn't matter, who wouldn't want to work with me? The tributes more District 1 didn't look like great battle buddies, so I went with second best.

"District 2." I said.

* * *

 **BELLA POV**

"Isabella Swan, please come with me." The Capitol worker said in a monotone voice. Edward was with her, so I decided to forget that she was there. No, I wasn't being rude, Edward was just, like, really pretty. Especially with his face all pale for the cameras.

He walked up to me and kissed me. It was unbelievable. Well, that's not true. I mean, I was there, so I believe it, but someone else wouldn't.

"Um, Miss Swan?" Someone called. Now, _that_ was unbelievable. I'd just spent the last 31 minutes and 22 seconds without Edward, and she had the nerve? I ignored her.

Edward pulled away. "It's time for your interview. I'll be waiting here." He said in his perfect voice. I nodded.

"See you soon." I said.

"I love you." He responded.

"I love you, too." I said.

"I love you mo-" He was cut off.

"Miss Swan?"

"Okay! I'm coming." Honestly, she was so rude! I kissed Edward good-bye.

Tears weren't difficult. Playing the sad girl who misses her family wasn't difficult either. Really, it was all the lights that annoyed me. I cringed back, even though the spotlight was firmly fixed on me. Caesar gave me a sympathetic look.

"Can you tell me about your family, Bella?" I gave them the sob story I'd invented with Benedictus Admiraal. Really, my parents were just weird.

"Um, so, I don't have a brother or a sister, but I have, like, a mom and a dad." I said, making my tone questioning, as if I was unsure. "Mom's not there, usually, but Dad, um, milks cows. He, uh, like, injured himself once, and I'm supposed to take care of it." I let myself dissolve into tears. Caesar nodded kindly.

Honestly? I hadn't been paying much attention to my dad lately. He was fine. I had Edward, and who needs a family then? My dad's injury probably wasn't even that bad, he could take care of himself.

My mind went back to Edward. If my interview took the same time as his, then it was only 7 minutes and 56… 55… 54 seconds until I could see him again.

"I'm very sorry to hear that, Bella." Caesar said, drawing me back to the present. "Why don't you tell us what your dad is like?" Caesar was quickly adopting the sympathy method of generating interest. With the tears on my face, it would have been hard to do anything else.

I tried to think of something positive about my father. "Well, he's very, uh, caring, I guess." I purposefully stumbled over my words. "He's, um, really kind? I guess… I'm sorry, Caesar, it kind of hurts to talk about it." Caesar nodded, his eyes full of false understanding.

"Of course, Bella. That's looks like all we have time for, anyway. Thank you for being here."

"Goodnight, Caesar." I responded, before rushing back to Edward.

* * *

 **I just realized that it's (almost) exactly a month after I started this! Happy month anniversary, and don't forget to review! :)**


	8. The Cornucopia

**And the Games have started! (Trumpets in distance) Place your bets, my lovely readers!**

 **I do not own any of the characters or the world this story is set in.**

* * *

 **CLARY POV**

Jace hadn't spoken to me for the entire time.

I mean, I hadn't spoken to him either, but he was the one who needed to apologize, not me. Though, as the days went on, it was getting harder and harder to turn my eyes away from him. I couldn't waste my final moments with him, and they would be my final moments, no matter who won, in this stupid game of "I won't look at you because I don't care about you unless you look at me first please please look at me first I will give anything".

At least, that was what was going through my head.

If he hadn't volunteered, there would have been a chance of an "us" again, no matter how minuscule. Or I could die knowing that Jace was a part of my life and cared about me. Now I know nothing and it's driving me insane.

Or the unthinkable could happen. He could die before me.

I was aware of how unlikely it was. He was the boy who's been training his entire life for this. He was the one with a chance.

I was just the girl who was randomly selected and would die in the bloodbath. No one would remember me. It would be sad, maybe I'd get a few tears, and then they would move on.

Either way, I couldn't leave our relationship in tatters, ready to blow away in the sea of blood that is the Games. I wouldn't let it.

* * *

I rose early on the day of the Games, but I knew that Jace would already be awake. I found him in the training rooms, and as quickly as my eyes fell on him, I lost my voice.

"Jace?" It came out all wrong. I was crying. I'd better hope that he still has feelings for me, otherwise this would be an awkward meeting. His eyes lifted to meet mine…

… And I lost all hope right there.

"Can I help you?" He responded, tone clipped.

I squared my shoulders and wiped away my tears. If this was the way he wanted to play things, then fine. We would have it his way.

"Actually, yes, I think you can." He wasn't expecting this and it showed in his eyes. Clearly, he expected me to walk off, tail between my legs at his gaze, and forget everything that had happened.

"I need to know why you keep ignoring me. I need to know why you've been acting so distant. I need to know why you won't even bloody nod at me when we pass in the hallway, or say hello. I need to know what the hell it is that has you so bloody cold to me and everyone here. _Especially me_. I-" Dammit, the tears had started up again. "I can't live with seeing you like this. If- If this is the last we see each other, Jace, I don't want it to be like this." What could have changed in our relationship that could make him hate me so much?

"Clary, I-" Jace began, and gave up. He walked towards me quickly, and kissed me just as quickly, as if he couldn't wait to tell me his reasons before kissing me. I wasn't putting up with that. I deserved answers.

I pulled away. "No, Jace. You need to tell me what's going on. We can't be together if we're not confiding in each other. _Tell me what's going on._ "

Jace looked at me in surprise, and then hurt, as if he couldn't see why being an asshole and then refusing to acknowledge my words might make me a bit reluctant to kiss him. I raised my eyebrows, looking up at him.

"I can't do this," he muttered, not meeting my eyes. He pushed past me and walked out of the room.

I watched him go.

* * *

 **CELAENA POV**

Finally, the day has come.

I eat as much breakfast as I can, though not enough to slow me down when the games begin. I'll need the extra fuel, but I'll also need all the speed I can get right at the start.

The other tributes are all fidgeting. The District 10s are dead white. Even Dorian looks nervous. Dorian… It will be a shame to kill him. It must be done, though.

My suit for the Games is light, and stretchy. Running maybe? Or climbing? Athletics are a strong point of mine, so I smile to myself. Already winning.

* * *

I look out at the tributes. Dorian, next to me, tries to catch my eye, but I've already forgotten him. Just another opponent I'm ready to take down. I go into full battle mode, assessing the terrain around me. The ground is bumpy and uneven, easy to trip over. Not for me, though. I can see grass and trees behind me, a good place to find water and small animals. Not that there will necessarily be any. This is all fake, so the signs don't mean anything. Either way, this is the direction I will be heading.

"Ten!"

A voice booms from the speakers. A countdown makes it easier for the tributes, but more dramatic for the Capitol, and that's what this is all really about.

"Nine!"

I steady my feet. I am heading straight for the cornucopia. No one can kill me. I am invincible. I will survive.

"Eight!"

One last survey of my surroundings. The tributes are preparing for the start, though most with clumsy positions and nervous expressions. Idiots.

"Seven!"

The sun is shining bright. It gives me warmth. It gives me strength.

"Six!"

I am ready to go. No doubts, no fears, no mercy.

"Five!"

I will stay alive.

"Four!"

I will stay strong.

"Three!"

I will stay relentless.

"Two!"

I will stay unstoppable.

"One!"

I will stay Celaena Sardothien.

The gong sounds and my feet are the wind. They carry me through 23 terrified children and I kill all I come into contact with. A tall Russian guy. A little brunette girl. It's all the same. Death surrounds me, and I bathe in it. This is what I was born to do.

* * *

 **EDWARD POV**

This isn't what I expected and this is what I expected. Both at the same time. It's louder than I expected, and, given that I live in District 10, home of the screaming pigs, that's pretty loud. It's just as brutal as I expected.

I run to Bella immediately, and she runs to me.

"What do we do?" She calls through her tears and over the noise of death. I pull her into my arms, and we stand there in our little bubble of each other. No one can hurt us. We are all alone together. My lips touch hers-

-And are ripped away by a sharp pain in my lower back. The pain is subtle, in another dimension. Dimensions that are increasingly blurring and joining and the pain is coming. Oh, the pain is coming. And it's not slowing. It's hard to remember life before this. I must have had a life that meant something other than pain once, right? But that's becoming so, so hard to remember through this.

"Edward!" A high-pitched scream takes the center of my mind. Second to the pain, of course. Nothing comes before the pain.

"Go!" I yell to the air. And I know there is air there. Just because it won't go into my lungs doesn't mean it doesn't exist. The air is acid in my mouth, refusing to pass through my throat and fuel my breath. My lungs are no-entry zones.

And this doesn't take from the pain. No, it only increases. A gaping hole in my chest, growing bigger and bigger and bigger until there is nothing left of me but an endless cycle of pain then pain then pain then pain.

Then the pain stops.

* * *

 **Some shocking twists, some shocking deaths… The Games are just getting started! Review your thoughts and suggestions below and I'll see you soon!**

 **P.S. I haven't even decided who's going to win yet, so your reviews have a good chance of influencing the ending! Choose wisely…**


	9. The Cornucopia - 2

**Okay! The Games have started and blood is flowing! (…yay?) This chapter will show the bloodbath again through more perspectives, because a** _ **whole lot**_ **of things are happening. Excited? Good!**

 **I do not own any of the characters or the world this story is set in.**

* * *

 **ROSE POV**

Only two kills? I must be losing my touch.

It doesn't matter, they'll all die in the end. Tris Prior, and the brown-haired boy from District 10 whose name I never bothered to learn. I've never killed anyone before, never needed to. It doesn't bother me, but I hate to do anything to please the Capitol.

I examine the prizes for my effort. A long dagger, which I clean the blood off with grass. It will be useful in the coming weeks. I have also gotten a water bottle and a pack of both dried and non-dried fruit. Not bad.

I think sadly of Dimitri. His head had been so filled with Capitol-worshiping garbage that it was probably better that he had died. At least, that's what I tell myself.

Thinking of Dimitri's deaths brings my thoughts to the girl who killed him - Celaena Sardothien. A good fighter, and she made no attempts to hide it. Maybe even a challenge. I feel like I could have been friends with her, in an alternate universe far away.

Not this one, though. In this one, we are enemies.

I was able to get close to the center, though I wouldn't have stayed there with the careers. I'm not killing someone who I've fought next to. Besides, I'm better off alone.

Fresh fruit will last a week at most. I'll have to eat it before then. I have also seen a few, though not many, rabbits in the forest that I ran to. Unfortunately, I have more practice on training dummies than animals, which are too small for my liking. I will figure it out, though. I decide that I have not done too badly compared to the past arenas and other tributes.

Finding water is my first step. The climate is not particularly humid, but my single bottle of water won't last forever. If it hadn't been for that damn Celaena girl I could have spent more time at the cornucopia. As it was, it would have been too risky with her slinging her knives everywhere. I'm reckless, not suicidal.

I begin walking through the forest. I don't expect to see anyone today. Most are recuperating or dead, anyone with enough wounds to prevent walking will have been killed by the careers.

No, I'm not blaming them. Anyone with half a brain knows that you kill all wounded in the Hunger Games. You kill _everyone_ in the Hunger Games. That's the way things work. But you can't blame me for wishing they worked different.

* * *

 **AMERICA POV**

The Games begin and there is chaos. Maxon is on my left and the boy with the green eyes from District 2 is on my right. I step off my starting position after wasting seconds witnessing the confusion from the outside. I begin to turn and run in the other direction - you couldn't pay me to run into the cornucopia at that time - when Maxon grabs my arm.

 _Let's go!_ He mouths. I can't hear him over the din coming from behind us. I grab his hand and we run as fast as we can into the forest. Yes, I am aware that most people will go to the forest, but that seems like the place where water will be. I've never been without water before and I don't intend to start now. Surely it can't be that hard to find?

It is.

It seems that we wander for hours, and we probably do. Occasionally I hear birds call, but I can't enjoy it because of the growing pain in my stomach. I realize that I should have eaten more this morning, but I chose not to lower myself to the level of the savages from lower districts, eating as much as pigs! I regret that decision now.

Maxon looks as tired and hungry as I do, but I don't acknowledge it. I may not be going to cast him away forever, but what he did at the interviews put a definite dent in our relationship. How could he say that? The Capitol has no right to know anything about us, and Maxon doesn't seem to care. Anything that will make him more _popular_.

But, then, he did get a pack from the cornucopia which he's sharing with me. I suppose I shouldn't be too harsh on him. We went through it about an hour after we had left the cornucopia, though we didn't speak at all. He had gotten dried fruit, though we weren't eating it yet, no matter how hard my stomach protested. There was also a lighter, which we could use to warm ourselves up, I suppose. _I_ wasn't killing any animals, so unless Maxon proved to be a fearless hunter, it wasn't good for much else. Maybe we'll find some berries…

 _No. Stop thinking about food. That won't get you anywhere._ I scolded myself. Think of puppies… and kittens… and lambs…. Like the ones we ate back at the Training Center… mmm…

This wasn't working. Out of desperation for something to stop me from ripping the pack out of Maxon's hands and devouring the fruit, I spoke to him.

"You can't ignore me forever, you know."

Yes, I know, I was the one ignoring him, but he's far too much of a gentleman to say anything like that.

"America… I'm sorry, all right? I didn't know what else to do." Look at him, still saying exactly what the Capitol wants him to say. Drama. All of that. I'm sick of it.

"You didn't have to tell them anything!" I yell at him through my cracked throat. He cringes, and looks around. I lower my voice. Angry as I am, I don't want to alert the other tributes to my location.

"America, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Forget it." This distraction isn't working. If we continue talking, I'll forget about the fruit and rip his face off.

"No, America." He says, surprising me. "I understand you're upset, but we need to work this out. I'm not entrusting my life to someone who hates me. It doesn't _matter_ what the Capitol thinks right now, it only matters if we trust each other. You don't want the Capitol to know about our relationship? Too bad, they already know. But you being upset about your privacy won't keep you alive." He looks angry, and I'm ashamed. He is right, I'm just picking a fight for the sake of picking a fight.

I open my mouth to respond when Maxon lets out his breath and looks up. A tiny parachute falls to the ground. We both rush over to it, and Maxon picks it up.

"It's a gift from the Capitol!" Maxon exclaims, though still keeping his voice down. Any tribute would love one of these gifts, no matter who it was intended for.

I guess the Capitol residents love drama, then.

Heat still burns my cheeks from the stupidity of our argument, but once Maxon has it open, my shame is at the back of my mind.

The lamb that I had been dreaming so fondly of before was now right before my eyes. I have never been so glad that meat doesn't last long as we sit down next to a tree to eat it.

The silence is awkward. I know I should say something, but I can't think what. I say the first thing that comes into my head.

"I'm sorry." It's not enough. I know that. But he still smiles at me.

"It's forgotten."

* * *

 **JACE POV**

I slashed my way through hoards, or so it seemed, or screaming, running kids. I only know for sure that I killed one (the pale boy from District 10), I didn't have time for checking if each victim was dead. I had to get to the cornucopia. I would be one of those who stayed there, those tributes always won.

 _You cannot let your little feelings get in the way of glory._

My father's words echoed through my head, spurring me on. I grabbed a new, longer knife from closer to the cornucopia, continuing my arc of destruction.

 _I want you to kill her. First._

These words brought a stutter to my step and the young boy with messy hair that I'd just been about to kill escaped. I cursed and continued. No time to go back now. It didn't matter, he was too small to be a threat.

I reached the horn at the same time as Cinder from District 3. She, Kai and I had already made plans to defend the cornucopia and set up camp there together. I nodded at her and we began attacking the tributes still taking our resources. I saw her hit a tall boy with a concealed weapon. He went down immediately, and she moved on to her next target.

I looked around me, noticing movement in the far left of my vision. A gray-eyed girl had her dagger raised above someone. I ran to make sure that they both died, and I saw who she was attacking. I wish I could say that I thought with my head, but I knew it wasn't a smart decision. Rather, I was thinking with my heart when I ran and blocked the dagger sinking towards Clary's head.

I now knew who the gray-eyed girl was, Annabeth Chase from District 2. Her eyes flew to mine, first in shock, then anger. But, rather than attacking me, she turned and fled, along with two other boys. I had no doubt that I could have caught up to them and slit their throats, but instead I turned and looked at Clary.

Another choice I could make.

I could feel my father's eyes, watching me from back home in District 7.

 _I want you to kill her. First._

I leaned forward, raised my hand and helped her up.

This time, I was making the right choice.

* * *

 **KATNISS POV**

I strapped myself to the tall tree, settling in for my first night in the arena. The air was dead silent. That is to say, the air had the silence of recent death. I had my sleeping bag, but the night are was still chilly.

A sudden cannon fire startled me, jolting me back to wakefulness. Seven cannon fires, to be exact. It looked like day one of hell was officially over. The Capitol anthem came over hidden speakers, and I twisted to see the projected images of dead tributes.

The first to appear was the tall Russian from District 5. Looks like all the careers made it then, like usual. Then, both tributes from District 6. I hadn't known any of these, but Hermione, the twelve-year-old from District 9, I had made friends with, and her death fills me with anger. The other deaths were Edward, Shane, and the other girl from 11. I hadn't known them particularly well, but the ending of their lives brings me as much grief as anyone's.

Sleeping was the last thing I felt like doing when the song ended and the night was quiet again, but I forced myself to lay down. Their deaths were sad, but I would die too if I didn't get enough sleep to keep me going.

I closed my eyes and the day ended.

* * *

 **Day one is over! *Wipes away tears* When I started this story I** _ **never**_ **realized how painful it would be to kill all my favourite characters. Review me your thoughts, and I'll see you soon!**


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